Things were so quiet on Berserker Island, so whenever something was going on, it was immediately noticeable. Noises of metal clanging against metal rang through the air like a dragon roaring. Dagur and Oswald were on their way to the ship, but only one stopped at the sound. Oswald kept walking towards the vessel and did not slow down. The heir scowled at him.

"Aren't you even curious what that was?"

"I'm sure everything is fine," the man said, sounding tired already even though the journey had not yet started.

"Fine. I'll check," Dagur huffed.

"Don't be long."

Obstinately, the boy's first few steps were slow, but his curiosity and concern overpowered this and made him pick up his pace. He hurried to where the sounds had come from and snarled when he saw Ansson. The viking was shoving a merchant aside to take a mace.

"Please," the merchant said pitifully, "I'll lower the price. I just can't give it to you for free. I need gold to buy medicine for my children."

Ansson sneered at him and lifted the mace in a menacing way. "Either you give it to me, or I'll have to return it to you. I don't think you'd like the way I would."

The Berserker tried to stand his ground, but he flinched as the weapon was sent his way. It stopped when an ax blocked its path. Beneath the weapon, Dagur was glaring at Ansson. An enraged look appeared on the man's face before he started to smile.

"Trying to protect him, Dainty? You know you can't beat me."

Dagur ignored him and just focused on the attacker's eyes. They could help him predict his next move. He noticed the eyes shift to his shoulder and before Ansson could redirect where he planned on swinging the weapon, the younger viking dodged and kicked him in the stomach. The blow sent Ansson backwards and his eyes widened in shock. Before he could compose himself, Dagur charged and swung down with the ax. Just barely, the attack was blocked with the mace, but the knee to the gut was not avoided. Ansson let out a low grunt and swung the mace again, almost wildly.

"He's losing control," the boy thought, grinning.

Ducking out of the way of a clumsy swing, Dagur let the momentum of Ansson's own actions help him push the mace further to his right with his own weapon. A small yelp exited the larger viking's mouth as he realized he had just been disarmed. The ax was put to his throat and there was a violent look in Dagur's eyes. Regardless, Ansson's eyes held a look of smugness.

"Not even going to kill me?" he asked, stepping forward a bit so that the blade pressed deeper into his skin. "Knew you weren't one of us. The chief must've found you on some island. It just doesn't seem right to think that you're somehow a Berserker, Dainty."

"I'm not dainty," Dagur growled, holding onto the weapon tighter.

"Then finish it."

"Me not killing you doesn't keep me from being a Berserker."

"No, but everything else about you does. Face it. Who else do you see talking about fruit baths or table manners? Everyone else here is calm, but you get excited at the drop of a helmet. It's not normal. Not chiefly. A proper heir would be like us. You're not. Even you should be able to see that you're the problem here, Dainty."

Around him, the heir noticed that Berserkers were gathering. They looked at him like he was somehow in the wrong. It was always the same. It was always him being separate from them. He wondered if there would ever be a day when it was not that way.

"Dagur the Dainty," Ansson chanted with a grin. "Dagur the Dainty."

With a furious yell, the boy raised the weapon. Even when he won, he somehow still lost. In one slash, all this torment could finally end. In one decision, he could have his people's respect.

"Put down that ax, Dagur!" Oswald yelled.

Dagur stopped mid swing and looked at the chief like a baby yak who had just been deprived of the chance to walk with its mother.

"But–"

"I said don't be long and you take that as an invitation to kill someone," Oswald said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Come over here."

On the way over there, Dagur heard Ansson continuing to taunt him. It was so tempting to just go and run him through, but the look on his father's face held more frustration than usual and he listened. Once boarded, Oswald set sail, a scowl still on his face. It had been a rough night with little sleep. Unlike the last visit, he was not intoxicated. He would be better prepared for an attack, but his head was clear and able to focus on all the miseries he had. He had had more than enough of this island and that boy. He needed this treaty trip if for no other reason, just to give him a moment's peace. Of course, that moment could not come when Dagur was around him.

"Why do you just let him do whatever he wants?" he questioned, crossing his arms.

"Who?"

"Ansson! Who else?"

"Don't use that tone with me."

"Ooh, scary. I better stop. You might agreeable me to death."

"Dagur," Oswald said warningly. "I am too tired for this."

"You're always too something. You're too tired, too busy, or something else. When are you actually going to just do what you're supposed to? Ansson was about to kill someone and you didn't even see that part! You never see what anyone does wrong unless it's me!"

"That's not true."

"How isn't it? You know, he could actually hurt a lot of vikings if he isn't stopped."

The chief frowned at the helm and closed his eyes, trying to tune him out.

"Nice, so now you're just pretending I'm not even here. I'd pretend you weren't here too, but one of us should pay attention to things. Guess what, Dad? Ansson's nearly burned down huts in the night several times. I stopped him every time, but you never see that, do you? You just notice me when you want to say I'm doing something dangerous or stupid. You're so blinded by that, you won't even realize when he's killed half the tribe! It won't just be me he's after that day. I know you like it when it is."

Still with his eyes closed, the viking spoke. "We are going to Berk and we are going to seem like a team. So, I suggest you extinguish this fire in yourself now."

"Or what?! It's not like you ever make anyone stop doing things," Dagur challenged, going closer and laughing. He roughly poked Oswald's shoulder. "You never do anythi–"

The youth stopped talking as the chief's right hand grabbed his braid, yanking his head back. Dagur was so surprised that he just stared wide-eyed at Oswald. A dangerous look was on his face and it was one the boy had never seen. The fact that it was directed at him was unsettling.

"When we go to Berk this time, you're going to seem like a civil viking," Oswald stated through gritted teeth. "I've clearly been too permissive with many things. You got away with a lot last time because I wasn't in the right frame of mind, but you won't disrespect me in front of the other vikings a second time. Do you understand me?"

Still shocked, the teenager did not immediately respond. When he saw the Berserker's other hand leave the ship's helm and ball into a fist, he nodded quickly. Oswald released his hair and glared at him. Dagur took a step back and frowned before heading down to the lower compartment, hoping his hasty departure seemed more like an attempt to not lash out than the desire to get further out of his father's reach that it really was. His heart was beating quickly and he punched the air to let out some frustration and nerves. He knew himself. Even if everything that visit went well, he would make Oswald angry some other time. When that inevitably happened, how would the chief respond?

As the boy anxiously contemplated this, the chief unclenched his fist. He had not planned on using it, but he thought that if his son did not respond to peace or chastisement, he might respond to threats of violence. He suddenly realized how he could have poorly predicted Dagur's actions. What if he had decided to fight instead of stop? If he had, the chief honestly doubted he would have stood down. Oswald was not proud of himself, but he was far too exasperated to care much. Letting out a deep sigh, he set his eyes back on the waters in front of them. The rest of the trip was quiet, just how he loved for it to be. When they docked at the Berkian harbor, Dagur felt the vessel stop and hesitantly went to the deck. He glanced at the man and walked behind him as they descended. The Berkian noticed that the other chief seemed to be in a better mindframe this time and shook his hand cordially.

"How have things been on Berk?" Oswald asked. He noticed they were one viking short of a trio. "Where's Gobber?"

"He's in the dragon killing arena with the lads and lasses. They're old enough now to begin their dragon killing training now in the arena."

"How has that been going?"

Stoick hesitated and Oswald noticed the disappointed look on Hiccup's face. He did not see the excited look on Dagur's.

"You can kill dragons now?" he inquired, eyes twinkling.

"Not really," Hiccup answered.

"I can give you some tips," the older boy offered, looking prideful. "I'm great at it."

Oswald paid attention to that part and turned. "If you both go there, you'll just watch," he instructed. "The training is for the Berkians, not Berserkers."

The redhead fought against a scowl and just nodded his head, surprising the Berkians.

"I doubt getting to see some more dragon killing practice will hurt," the larger chief mentioned. "Gobber can keep an eye on things and make sure they just watch today."

"As if I'm going to be lucky enough to go by the arena and not get forced to enter," Hiccup thought unhappily. "Today was going to be the first time in a little while where I wasn't going to be expected to go and try to kill something. Or more accurately make a fool of myself with an audience."

Dragging his feet a bit, the small boy started walking towards the arena and was soon joined by the Berserker heir who put an arm around his shoulder in excitement. Hiccup gave up halfway through an attempt to get free, resigning himself to the fact that this was just how he was going to be walking until they got there.

While the three left, the chiefs went to the Great Hall to begin dealing with the peace treaty. On the way, Stoick felt himself incapable of keeping from commenting.

"Dagur seemed more…"

"Sane today?"

"I was going to say obedient."

"I'd take either," Oswald admitted, sighing.

The chiefs entered the building and quickly read off the terms of the treaty as usual.

"And I, Stoick the Vast, of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe agree to not attack you, Oswald the Agreeable of the Berserker tribe…"

Noticing the pause, the other man tilted his head in confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"Not necessarily wrong, but…well, I suppose it is a bit plain."

"Plain? It's straightforward. That's more than most vikings are nowadays."

"You won't hear an argument from me there." Stoick frowned slightly, almost questioning how he could even be in something resembling agreement with the deranged youth. "It is possible that there's more we could do for one another than simply not kill each other. Has the thought really never crossed your mind?"

Oswald did not immediately say anything and instead seemed lost in thought. Stoick waited a few moments before calling his name.

"Hm? Sorry, what was your question?"

"Don't you ever think of there being more beyond our islands?"

"All the time," Oswald admitted. "I could sooner think of a time when I didn't." He suddenly turned towards the other chief with a sad look in his eyes. "It's a lot sometimes…being chief. We're expected to have all the answers, be brave, and be invulnerable. Yet, we're just vikings at the end of the day. The only thing separating us from our followers is a title. Who's to say we even deserve it? It's all in birthright. Maybe our ancestors earned their roles as leaders, but we got ours just by being born. It's not fair."

The words took Stoick off guard and he was not sure how to respond to them. "It's not fair to the others?"

"No, it's not fair to us," Oswald stated miserably. "Why should we be saddled with this burden while the rest of the vikings can sleep easily, confident that we'll take care of all their needs? Why should they get to live out their lives in happiness while we know nothing but stress?" The chief went to the door of the Great Hall and stood there, staring as though he were standing before a remarkable sight. "I would give my right arm to leave all this behind."

"Oswald," Stoick said, sounding concerned, "you can't be serious."

"I swear to Odin that I am."

"What would you even do?"

"Live. Explore. Be happy and have it last for once. Stoick, what wouldn't I do? Don't you ever think of that?"

As the chief fell silent, so too fell the Berserker's hopeful expression. He frowned and turned back to the table, sitting down.

"I suppose you're too noble of a chief to entertain such frivolous thoughts."

His tone hit a nerve with Stoick, who frowned in turn. "You shouldn't either. Your vikings need you."

"They'd be fine without me. Probably would be happier even."

"You can't mean that."

Rather than confirm or deny, Oswald slid the treaty paper over to himself. He took out a writing utensil and wrote down his name.

"There," he said, leaning back in the seat and crossing his arms. "That way, you won't have to worry that my dreams will somehow get in the way of our peace."

Stoick approached the table to sign as the heirs approached the arena. When they got there, Dagur (to the younger viking's relief) let go and leapt up onto the bars to get a better look at things, peering down at everyone. The other kids were in there, some doing better than others. Astrid was dodging spines from a Nadder and a fire blast from a Gronckle at the same time. Meanwhile, Snotlout was so engaged in watching this that a Monstrous Nightmare burned his backside without him noticing. He yelped and ran for a water bucket. Gobber sighed as the twins and Dagur laughed. Recognizing the crazed cackle, the Jorgenson looked up and beamed.

"Dagur's here!" he happily called out.

"Focus, Snotlout," Gobber instructed.

The suggestion came soon enough to prevent the boy from getting toasted by a Hideous Zippleback. It was a narrow escape and one that caused him to get a glare of disapproval from Astrid. The twins were safe enough since they kept bickering and fighting, having enough fortune on their side to miss each stream of fire that was sent their way when they would wrestle around on the ground.

"Bad form," Dagur commented, shaking his head. "When their luck runs out, they're dead."

He glanced at Hiccup, expecting a bit of back and forth, but he got none. The younger boy's focus was on Astrid and Astrid alone. Dagur lifted his brow before following his gaze. A smirk spread over his face.

"You like her," he said.

Hiccup snapped back to reality with a start. "What? No, I don't."

"Then, why is your face red?"

"It is?"

"Is now."

Dagur started to laugh again at the Berkian's expression. Hiccup felt his face burning and tried to not look at the arena. He also hoped that no one in the area was looking at him. To keep his eyes from that, he frowned at the older boy.

"Aw, don't be angry," Dagur said. "Nothing wrong with a crush that you 'totally don't have.'"

He finished it with a wink and a wide grin, only making Hiccup feel more embarrassed.

"Oh gods," he thought. "Of all the vikings to find out about this, why did it have to be Dagur?"

"Why don't you go tell her? You obviously haven't."

"Have you seen Astrid? She'd kill me if I even got so far as to say 'I like.' Then, Berk would be down one heir and Snotlout or someone would probably become next in line"

The Berserker made a face. "Well, if that's the outcome, I get it. Seems pretty unlikely, though. You're the chief's son. Even if that doesn't make her love you, it'll make her not kill you. Go for it. Can't be afraid of dragons, fighting vikings, and girls. You'll run out of things to not be afraid of. Then, you'll start getting freaked out by inanimate objects."

Hiccup just blinked at him. "Kind of a slippery slope, don't you think?"

"Hey, no more than your confess your love and die theory."

"Okay, maybe you've got a point."

"So," Dagur sang, grin returning, "you'll tell her?"

"No, I didn't say that."

The bigger heir grunted. "You're really no fun, you know that? I should just tell her for you and get it over with."

"No! You can't do that!"

Hiccup's eyes were wide with fear and Dagur sighed. The Berkian half expected him to just jump into the arena and yell out the reveal, but he did not. Instead, he stayed quiet. He seemed calm…almost unhappy.

"How are things with your dad?"

"That's random," the boy mentioned, looking confused at the sudden topic change. "Um, they're fine. I'm obviously still not the warrior he'd want me to be, but I think he's starting to accept that or at least not expect me to be."

"Do you hate each other?"

The question caused the brown-haired boy to pull back, appalled at the thought.

"Not at all. We don't see eye to eye, but I don't think we could ever hate each other."

A short silence came, then Dagur turned to frown at him. "You don't think it could happen? It's simple. You keep being who you are and he keeps imagining who he wants you to be. As those two vikings become less and less alike, you start doing other things you think will make up for that, but they don't. They don't because he's already set in his mind what he wants from you and it's for you to be someone completely different. Of course, you aren't someone completely different! You're just you and that's not enough. No matter how hard you try or how much you want it to be, it just isn't!" The boy paused, eyes still flashing something which seemed like anger and something else which Hiccup could not discern. "It never will be."

Hiccup paled, taking in what he had said. What if Stoick did feel that way? What if he never gave up on his dream of Hiccup being a brave, muscular fighter? The boy was sure to disappoint him, assuming he had not already. Stoick did not understand his inventions very well, so his other attempts to compensate for his lack of athleticism were failing. If they continued to, that very fate the Berserker described could be his future. As the young heir thought of this, he thought of something else.

"Do you…feel that way?" he asked hesitantly, hoping he would not provoke the larger boy to attack.

"What?" Dagur asked, eyebrows raising. He started to laugh, but Hiccup noticed it sounded more nervous than genuine. "Me? Think that? I take back what I said, Hiccup, about you not being fun. You bring the funny! Imagine that," he said, chuckling still until it came to an abrupt stop. "I'm bored. I want to stab something."

Instinctively, Hiccup stepped back to get out of the danger zone. Dagur saw that and just frowned.

"I didn't say it was going to be you." His words did little to ease the other viking's concerns and his frown became a scowl. "I'm going to see what's taking them so long."

Without waiting for the other boy, Dagur sped off towards the Great Hall. When he got there, the chiefs were just finishing up with the signing. Before they exited, Stoick grabbed Oswald's shoulder. The grasp was not meant to be aggressive, but it was firm enough to get him to listen for a moment.

"Your vikings rely on you, Oswald," the chief said. "So does Dagur."

The Berserker just looked at the door. "He doesn't need me," he said, moving out of the grip and towards the exit.

When he got outside, he saw the boy. The Berserkers shared a brief, quiet moment between each other, then they went to the ship. Nothing was discussed when they boarded. Nothing was discussed when they reached their home. Everything that they felt needed to be said had been already. Talking more would only waste time. It might even sting, so it was just better for them both if they put those thoughts away and focused on their perspective concerns.